


Chance Encounters

by MissKitsune08



Series: The Freak Fleet [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 23:38:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10627578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissKitsune08/pseuds/MissKitsune08
Summary: Grand Admiral Thrawn and Captain Pellaeon meet Ensign Eli Vanto's alternate self whose life had taken the path he had originally intended for himself. A different take on their meeting featuring the far-fetched stories about Chiss Warriors. No spoilers forThrawnnovel. There is always a bit of truth in Legends.





	1. Chance Encounters

If there was anything the Grand Admiral loathed, it was fools who dared to ruin his master plans, thinking they were smarter than he was, that they could use his plans for their own benefits to further advance their careers. The incompetent fool who had read the Grand Admiral’s report on Rebels droids and disregarded it anyway, assuming he could have captured the C1 unit belonging to Captain Syndulla, met with an end fitting with the Grand Admiral’s idea punishment for a mistake.

Mistakes resulted in a waste of Imperial resources and an unnecessary loss of lives, and Grand Admiral Thrawn did not take the deaths of his men lightly. 

Now they had finally dealt with all the paperwork after the Battle of Atollon, the Grand Admiral decided to pay the Information and Supply outpost in this sector a surprise visit, turning the whole base upside down, recalling all non-essential personnel from their ships for an inspection; and a similarly inclined incompetent fool suddenly found himself a taste of hard vacuum without the luxury of a vac suit.

This time the Grand Admiral wanted Pellaeon to tag along, and there was really no point in arguing with the Chiss, so Pellaeon followed him like a shadow; Thrawn playing the bad ISB agent, giving all of them one of his red eyed glares, Pellaeon playing the good ISB agent, giving all of them curt polite nods.

They had been walking past the line of the assembled personnel, when the Grand Admiral stopped right in his tracks and jerked his head in the direction of the group of the lowest ranking ensigns that had been assigned to take an inventory at one of the supply ships.

“Your name, Ensign?” Thrawn said in a smooth, cultured tone. By the Nine Hells, what had the poor man muttered under his breath that it caught the Grand Admiral’s attention? 

“Eli Vanto, sir.”

The Ensign stepped forward, his face ashen, the same shade of gray as the uniform he had been wearing. All the other ensigns flinched, assuming the worst given the nature of the Grand Admiral’s visit.

“Walk with me, Ensign Vanto,” Admiral Thrawn ordered, dismissing the whole assembly with a gesture, taking the two of them into one of the empty conference rooms near the main hangar.

Pellaeon gave the Ensign a nod in encouragement; while none of the people on this base knew Thrawn, Pellaeon knew the Grand Admiral never took his frustrations out on bystanders.

“Where did you hear that word, Ensign?”

The Grand Admiral asked in a measured voice after he had used his personal override code and activated the sound proof filter in the conference room. Pellaeon let out a soft sigh, even without the alien features, the white uniform had a rather intimidating effect on lower ranks.

“I am originally from Lysatra, sir,” the Ensign squeaked, his posture rigid, far more rigid than the regulations required. “It’s a world located on the edge of the Wild Space, close to the Unknown Regions. The Chiss, well, they have always been thought of a Wild Space myth.”

Chiss?! This young man knew of Thrawn’s people? As far as Pellaeon had been aware, no one in the Galactic Empire seemed to have heard about the Chiss.

“A myth, you say?”

The red eyes narrowed.

“Curious. Yet it appears that one of the very creatures you considered to be a myth is standing right here in front of you.”

The Ensign swallowed visibly, his posture getting even more rigid.

Was it possible that the man had not been afraid of the white uniform but rather of the Chiss beneath the uniform? What was it he had known? What was it he had heard?

The Grand Admiral opened his mouth and asked the young man something in a melodic language that Pellaeon had assumed that must have been his mother tongue. The Ensign appeared completely lost, shaking his head, his face clouding in a confusion, none of the strange song-like words registering in his brain.

The Grand Admiral’s eyes narrowed further, his brows furrowing in a frown, and then he said something in a very different language at which the Ensign reacted immediately, his eyes widening, his face holding an expression of pure, naked shock. Vanto replied in kind in the same language.

Pellaeon had no idea what had been being said but it definitely sounded like a question or a plea.

“Interesting,” The Grand Admiral said with a hint of an approval in his tone. “Knowledge of an obscure language that had never been programmed into the protocol droids or an imperial language databank is a rare skill for a man who chose to enter the Imperial Supply Division, Ensign.”

Ensign Vanto’s cheeks warmed up at the praise; apparently he took his job very seriously.

“Like I said, sir, I am from Lysatra, it’s still possible to find people there who can speak that language.”

The Grand Admiral nodded, giving him a long, pondering look, and then he turned and walked over to the far end of the room, sitting down at the center of the conference table, motioning for Pellaeon to sit next to him.

“You may sit down, Ensign,” he added in a soothing tone, aware of the strange effect he had over the man.

“Thank you, sir,” the Ensign didn’t move from his spot, his eyes flickering everywhere but the blue face, “I prefer to stand.”

Pellaeon frowned at the attitude but kept his mouth shut, letting Thrawn to handle the situation in whatever manner he deemed appropriate; when a grand admiral said something, it was an order, not a mere suggestion.

On the other hand, Pellaeon had to admit the young man had guts, being scared of a creature from his legends that also happened to hold the highest rank in the Imperial Navy, still standing his ground, refusing to give in.

“As you wish.”

The Grand Admiral must have felt very generous today, indeed.

“I am very much interested in the legends you heard of my people. And do not force me to make it an order, Ensign.”

Ensign took a deep sigh and opened his mouth, starting his long monologue, Pellaeon paying a very close attention to each word.

_Legends._

More like campfire stories to be exact, yet he couldn’t help but nod in agreement at certain places and roll his eyes once Vanto got to the description of their supernatural abilities. Clearly, at some time in the past, the Chiss had been in contact with the rest of the Galaxy, but it must have been so long ago that the myths that remained reminded him of a fantasy holoseries for children.

Ensign Vato spoke of Chiss pride, mischievousness, cleverness, and resourcefulness. He described them as a proud warrior race with their own code of conduct, committed for life and extremely loyal to each other, patiently waiting for the opponent to make the first move and once he had crossed them they would crush him with such a brutal, deadly force that it would make even the Dark Lord pale in envy.

_Never cross a Chiss._

That should have been carved into a stone and sent gift wrapped to the Rebellion.

However, Ensign Vato continued, describing the destruction they left in their wake, going as far as to drinking the blood of their enemies.

_Oh come on, Ensign, surely you’re better than this._

And he didn’t stop there, talking of their physical prowess, making it seem like Jedi Masters had been mere children with toy weapons in comparison, and Pellaeon couldn’t help the snort that escaped him. He had walked on Thrawn’s practice sessions enough times to give him a very good idea of his limitations. While yes, the Chiss had been able smash the assassins droids apart bare handed, no, he could not have rammed through the durasteel hull with his fist.

And then the Ensign finally got to the part where the Chiss did not require any sleep and that they had been able to survive the coldness of hard vacuum without a vacsuit, and ended his ridiculous tale by saying the Chiss had been able to read minds with their deep gaze and steal the souls of the individuals who had been foolish enough to look them in the eyes.

The Grand Admiral had been sitting there motionlessly the whole time, patiently listening to the overly dramatic presentation, his eyes giving out a dim, steady glow, his face perfectly composed, except for the faint, soft smile on the pale blue lips, a very rare occurrence indeed. Pellaeon assumed that this must have been as closest to laughing out loud as the Chiss would ever get, at least in front of others.

“Fascinating,” The Grand Admiral breathed out. “And you truly believe in these legends?”

“There is always a bit of truth in legends, sir,” the Ensign dodged the question, technically an another insubordination but the Grand Admiral didn’t appear to care.

It was crystal clear the Ensign believed in the last part, the Chiss being able to steal the souls with their gaze, for he never looked the Grand Admiral in the face during the entire encounter, standing at attention at the far side of the room, as far away from him as possible.

On the other hand, the Ensign spilled everything he knew no matter how far fetched and ridiculous it had seemed, suggesting that he had at least enough common sense to realize that the Chiss would not tear him apart and drink his blood unless he had crossed him.

The Chiss nodded, waving him off.

“You may go, Ensign Vanto,” he released the young man who almost jumped in relief, giving him his best salute and leaving the room as fast as possible.

“Your opinion, Captain?” The Grand Admiral said in an amused tone and shifted his red eyed gaze at Pellaeon.

How he could look so smug and composed after he had heard so much nonsense about his own kind had escaped him.

“He doesn’t know anything, sir,” Pellaeon started diplomatically. “Some of the stories were rather...” he tried his best to find the correct word and failed.

“Entertaining?” Thrawn suggested.

“Krayt spit, if you pardon my language,” Pellaeon cleared his throat, embarrassed he had used such a language in front of the Grand Admiral.

“Especially the one about the Chiss drinking the blood of their enemies.”

“Ah, yes,” Thrawn agreed, shaking his head, leaning back in his chair, then adding, “we abandoned that custom millennia ago.”

Pellaeon’s eyes boggled, his voice full of disbelief. “Did you just make a joke, sir?”

“Do not be ridiculous, Captain,” the Chiss rewarded him with a glare, his tone deadly serious, “I do not indulge in such human vices.”

Whatever. The Chiss definitely had a sense of humor, only it was darker than the Darth Vader’s black armor, no wonder the two of them got along so well. Who knew what they had been doing in private? Maybe they even went as far as cracking jokes at each other...

“I might have a need for an assistant,” Thrawn changed the topic abruptly, eyeing the door Ensign Vanto had left so eagerly.

“With all due respect, sir, I think you already scared this man enough for a lifetime,” Pellaeon countered, knowing the Grand Admiral wouldn’t rebuke him for his honest opinion, “and in any case he appears to be very content with the field that he had chosen as his specialty.”

“Perhaps.” Thrawn shrugged, his face unreadable. “Perhaps not. I will take your advice under consideration.”

Pellaeon heard that phrase so often that he knew it could mean anything. Thrawn had said it the every time he had asked Pellaeon for his honest opinion, giving him a polite nod in thanks, filing it away somewhere, and ended up doing whatever he had intended anyway.

If the Grand Admiral decided the Ensign had enough, he would leave him to his forms and numbers. If not, it was possible the poor man’s career would take a completely different direction.

Thrawn had clearly seen potential in that man, and Pellaeon had to admit that the Grand Admiral had a real talent at spotting people’s hidden powers; he would either yank them away from their lives and their careers, turning their lives upside down, or he would accidentally stumble upon low-ranks whose career took a dead end because of a wrong life decision or because they had a problem climbing the ranks the conventional way. He would offer them a chance in the Freak Fleet (a very fitting appellation, indeed) and he would nurse them into his perfect soldiers, shaping their minds and developing their skills.

The problem lay in the Grand Admiral’s teaching methods; he would wipe the floor with them, pointing out every single one of their mistakes, rubbing the salt into the wounds, setting the bar too high, assigning them tasks that they had no chance of accomplishing only to watch them squirm and deal with failure, rarely praising them, if ever. Not everyone possessed the patience of a saint, and there had been quite a few disappointments.

The latest unsuspecting victim had been Captain Dorja. Pellaeon still couldn’t understand what sort of hidden superpower the Grand Admiral had seen in _that_ one. A Coruscanti snob who became Konstatine’s executive officer because of his family connections in the Core Worlds, joining the Imperial Navy in the first place because he wanted to look cool in a uniform.

As much as Pellaeon hated to admit it, Dorja _had_ changed.

Or maybe serving under Konstantine left such a bad aftertaste that Dorja had been desperate to prove himself to the Grand Admiral, to the whole Imperial Navy that he had been worthy of the command he had been finally given. He was just trying _too_ hard…

So hard he beamed up like a lightsaber even though he utterly, completely lost to the Grand Admiral’s battle simulation, mistaking the fact he had been left to live as a commendation from Thrawn. And he crashed the obligatory Significance of Art on Warfare lectures, taking highlighted notes and everything.

The Grand Admiral would have certainly appreciated his efforts if Captain Dorja had been able to figure anything from his notes, but highlighted or not, it still didn’t make any sense to Dorja (or anyone else for that matter).

Pellaeon shook his head.

The Grand Admiral teamed Captain Dorja up with Commander Riza of all the people, making her the first officer of the ISD _Relentless_. A serene force on the surface, always polite to people around her, acting as an anchor to the overly enthusiast guy, but deep down Riza’s tongue had been as sharp as a vibroblade and Pellaeon had no doubt once the two of them were alone, she’d have no qualms telling Dorja ‘You just made a complete idiot out of yourself, _sir_.’

“Well, if it worked with Dorja...”

Pellaeon said, raising the white flag in a surrender. There was no sense in arguing with the Grand Admiral.

“Hmmm, yes,” The Chiss mused aloud, a hint of annoyance crossing his features for a second. “Captain Dorja required more time and effort than even I had anticipated but it seems that Captain Dorja and Commander Riza are finally starting to develop an appreciation for each other. Their personalities are imminently suited to each other.”

No matter what Pellaeon thought about Dorja personally, he _did_ have a sort of superpower, he made the Commander smile. Riza had one of the most kriffed up lifestories he had ever heard, starting her with marrying a Clone Trooper who aged twice as fast as her, having kids who inherited that gene, joining the Fleet to pay for the children’s gene therapy on Kamino, becoming essentially a slave to the Empire, proceeding with punching a lieutenant in the face who had been stupid enough to ridicule her because of her life’s choices, unfortunately the guy also happened to be a senator’s aide son, putting a dead end to her career.

He heard that Thrawn literally stumbled upon her and had been impressed in her floor scrubbing skills enough to have her transferred to the Seventh Fleet where she worked herself up from the cleaning lady to the executive officer. The senator’s aide must have been furious.

Thrawn never asked about her life story (Pellaeon had been _so_ shocked that Thrawn had truly not known the details when he talked him into granting her an extended leave for her husband’s funeral), just like he had never asked about anyone’s else lifestory. And he was sure Thrawn wouldn’t have asked about how Vanto ended up as a forever ensign in the middle of nowhere.

“I still can’t believe you set them up on purpose, sir,” Pellaeon muttered under his breath.

“Set them up?”

The Chiss repeated each word carefully as if he had never heard the phrase before, the blue face clouding in confusion, all his attention at Pellaeon now.

“Ehm, sir, it means...” Pellaeon started but the Grand Admiral cut him off with a hand gesture.

“I am perfectly aware what this particular phrase means, Captain,” the Grand Admiral said in a tone that had been as closest as he had ever been to saying ‘ _Do you take me for an idiot, Captain?_  

Pellaeon winced internally. He hoped that he had not truly offended the Chiss.

“What I cannot understand is how did you come to the idea that I had such an inclination in mind when I had appointed her as his first officer.” 

Now it was Pellaeon’s turn to squirm under the intense red glowing gaze that Ensign Vanto believed it had the potential to steal people’s souls. Utter nonsense, of course, but then Pellaeon had often wondered whether the Chiss’s gaze could see right through his soul.

“You didn’t?” Pellaeon asked off-handedly, putting his best fake innocent expression.

“No.”

“Well, if that’s the case, sir, then...” Pellaeon cleared his throat, hoping the other man would take the hint and change the topic as he had always done whenever it came to the matters of a personal nature concerning his crew. Whatever strange sort of code of conduct the Chiss Warriors had, it appeared that not intruding upon someone’s privacy had been was on that list.

“No, Captain, I am not letting this matter be, not this time.”

The Chiss leaned forward, the red eyed gaze staring at him, analyzing him as if Pellaeon became the only puzzle in the universe worth solving.

“I am interested to hear on what basis you formulated your hypothesis.”

 _Shavit_.

This was worse than Pellaeon had thought. He didn’t offend Thrawn, he had piqued his interest. And he knew too well that Thrawn wouldn’t stop until Pellaeon came up with an answer that would satisfy his curiosity. After all, it was Pellaeon who had been the Grand Admiral’s favorite mouse to play with. He might not have intended any harm coming to their way, but the Chiss had been the proverbial lothcat and his humans had been his proverbial mice.

The Grand Admiral had been obsessed with information, however, this time it was not the simple thirst for information that made the two red eyes glow like two supernovas.

It was the fact that Pellaeon had noticed something that the Chiss brain had been unable to see. That never happened before, and Thrawn wanted to know how was that even possible. Even if it crossed the Chiss’s delicate sensibilities by discussing topics of personal nature.

“You may speak freely, Captain, there will be no repercussions,” The Chiss said soothingly, inviting him to take his pick at his Chiss pride, giving him one of the rare glimpses of what went been behind the red eyed gaze.

“Riza and Dorja, they’re, well,...” Pellaeon croaked out, “You said so yourself, sir, their personalities _are_ imminently suited to each other.”

“Please continue, Captain,” the Chiss encouraged him, nodding his head fractionally, his blue face relaxed, “I simply wish to understand. Tell me what I had missed.”

It all started making sense. The only time when the Grand Admiral ever lost was when he had been missing a vital piece of information.

“You cannot see,” Pellaeon realized, watching the red eyes go wide as if he had struck a nerve, as if he had said something of a much larger significance, “because it is not there yet. They cannot see it either.”

It all made perfect sense. Thrawn was able to follow people’s thought patterns as if was a second nature to him, as if he truly possessed the skill to see through their souls, the ability to read their minds. He was able to analyze their works of art, they spoke to him, told him everything about the beings that had created them. 

How could he see something that had not been there?

“Then how is it possible you can?”

Pellaeon jerked in his seat, swallowing an ancient Corellian curse.

The Grand Admiral had been following his trail of thoughts the whole time, asking a question to the thing that Pellaeon would have never said aloud. No wonder there had been such far fetched stories about Chiss and their supposed omniscience.

“With all due respect, _sir_ ,” Pellaeon resisted the urge to bang his fist against the table, “could you _please_ stop reading my mind?”

One of the blue black eyebrows shot up.

“We would have never been having this conversation had I possessed an ability to read your mind, Captain.”

Well, Thrawn might not have had the actual ability, but still this has been as close as a Non-Force Sensitive would ever get. A magician would never reveal his tricks, would he?

“It is a combination of a species trait and an observational skill,” The Chiss said with an amusement, a small smile on his lips.

“Chiss sensory perception is different than that of a human. I can make an educated guess based on the amount of blood flow through the facial blood vessels, distribution of the body heat, muscular contraction and relaxation, the pupillary response, the overall human body language, and the tone and color of the voice. Combined with the knowledge of your Corellian background and character traits specific to you personally, I am able to follow your thought patterns correctly most of the time.”

And considering as his flagship captain he had spent at least two or three hours a day in his company, no wonder that the Grand Admiral had been able to read him as well as he did.

Pellaeon thought of the times he had been carefully choosing his words in front of the Grand Admiral, biting his tongue from voicing his true opinions, thinking how Thrawn’s orders made absolutely no sense and he must have been crazy like a mynock. And the Chiss knew, _onna fulle guth_ , he knew all along, and he had never breathed a word. Pellaeon’s cheeks burned in mortal embarrassment.

The cold blue face softened imperceptibly.

“My apologies, Captain. That had not been my intention.”

Pellaeon shrugged it off, taking a deep breath; he couldn’t have helped his reaction any more the Chiss couldn’t have missed it with the enhanced vision.

 _Oh no_.

Dorja and Riza were _so_ screwed.

“Sir, it's really none of our business,” Pellaeon’s voice turned into a plea, watching the red eyes narrow in a growing suspicion. “Sir, _please_. If nothing else, don't _say_ anything.”

His mind went back to the time the COMPNOR paid him a surprise visit, dragging all of his skeletons from the closet in an effort to humiliate him.

“ _I couldn't care less about what my human subordinates do in their leisure time. That is, of course, unless an another member of the crew were involved. If I had any suspicion about the Captain or the Commander I would have them both immediately demoted to lieutenants and transferred each to a different ship.”_

The Chiss stiffened, his whole body posture suddenly tense, his face carved from a stone, his eyes narrowed into mere slits, emanating an intense red glow; the Grand Admiral donned his commanding persona. 

“Do you realize, _Captain_ ,” the Grand Admiral hissed the last word, “what you are suggesting to me? They are a captain and a first officer of an Imperial Star Destroyer. In a direct chain of a command.”

“Yes,” Pellaeon gulped.

Had Thrawn never disobeyed an order in his life? Had he never broken any rules? He must have been a petty low rank once, too. No one started their careers as a Captain or an Admiral, not even genius tacticians as him. He must have been the type of a subordinate the every ranking officer hated: better and smarter than the commander himself.

And the said Chiss had been reading him like an open book.

“I make _so_ many allowances for humans,” The Grand Admiral said, once again in his smooth, carefully modulated voice, the tension slowly emanating from his body.

“I will take your advice under consideration.”

The same words he had said about Ensign Vanto, the same words he had said whenever Pellaeon spoke his honest opinion about Thrawn’s strategies.

“Now let’s go back to work, Captain. We don’t have all day.”

 

**THE END**

 


	2. A Bonus Story

A Bonus Story (blame the novel for this one)...

 

**Title: Language Proficiency is an Acquired Skill**

 

 _Damn the Coruscanti snobs who never experienced real work in their lives_ , Lieutenant Riza cursed as she scrubbed one of the hallways of the Imperial Palace. They wouldn’t court martial her, no, that would have been too obvious, instead they would reassign her to the sanitation duty at the Imperial Palace, making her clean refreshers after the shitty politicians. Well, if that had been the case, she’d make sure the refreshers shined as brightly as a star cluster.

She kept scrubbing, and out of the corner of her eyes she noticed a tall blue man in a uniform marching through the hallway, blindly staring at his datapad, carelessly stepping on the wet floor she had been still cleaning. Great, she’d have to give it one more take. “Wet floor!” She yelled after the idiot, “Can’t you read the sign?!”

Unfortunately, that made the said man startle and he slipped, falling flat down to the floor, the datapad screen breaking apart, the device spiraling in her direction. She caught it and turned her attention to the alien who had been picking himself up from the floor.

Only then she had noticed the rank plate. Shavit.

“I am so sorry, sir,” she breathed out, her face warming in embarrassment, handing out the datapad to him.

The alien was tall, blue skinned, with red glowing eyes that looked as if could burn her down with a stare if he had pointed them in her direction. Only he paid little attention to her, his eyes going over the state of the hallway and then finally settling on the datapad she had been holding in her left hand, his eyes lingering a fraction of a second longer than necessary, a clear indication he had noticed the wedding band.

“Would you be willing to clean my Star Destroyer, Lieutenant?” the alien asked dead pan, taking the datapad from her.

What the?! He had just noticed her wedding band and immediately proceeded with an innuendo? How dare he? Alien or not, this chauvinist had been as bad as the laserbrain who got her into this mess in the first place.

She clenched her fists in an impotent rage and without a word she walked over and took the bucket, splashing its contents on the alien officer who had the audacity to insult her in such a manner, addressing her by her rank while clearly abusing his authority of a ranking officer. His Star Destroyer? What a joke!

The officer stood there, transfixed to the spot, water slowly dipping from him, his alien face unreadable, the red glowing eyes staring into a faraway distance.

“You will have to work on your attitude, Lieutenant,” the officer said, breaking from his stupor. “And I will have to work on my Basic proficiency. I know I am still wearing my old rank plates but I have just received new orders, Lieutenant, I truly _am_ to be a captain of a Star Destroyer.”

“I am so sorry, sir, I had no idea,...” Riza wished she had her side arm so she could shoot herself in the head and skip the court-martial.

“It is of no consequence, Lieutenant,” the captain said in a tone indicating a clear dismissal, “I will simply deduct the cost of the datapad and the uniform from your salary.”

“You are really offering me a job, sir?” Riza shook her head in disbelief. _After I’ve just thrown a bucket on his head?_

“Yes.” One of the blue black eyebrows shot up. “No matter how much effort you put into your work the hallway will never be clean enough when there are politicians walking on it.” The captain gave her a curt nod and walked away, leaving her utterly lost for words.

 

**THE END**


End file.
